Up Styx Creek
by idyllsea
Summary: High school's no walk in the park – break-outs, make-outs, nutty teachers, petty fights, the potential destruction of the known order of the universe…I almost feel bad for these kids.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all, welcome to my first fanfic! Here are just a few notes before you get started:  
>1. This story does not follow the original plotline of the film. There will be new conflicts, new characters and some side storylines that don't directly include the characters of the Covenant, but which are put in to satisfy my writing bug. In the first few chapters, the movie characters will probably not be very prominent, so I can establish the newbies a bit, but the boys will take center stage soon enough.<br>2. I realize that I might be taking a few liberties with the mythology that I'm using in my story - pretty please, if that upsets you, forgive me in the name of artistic license.  
>3. This has not been proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.<p>

Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership over the film The Covenant, or any of the ideas or characters portrayed within it. I'm only borrowing them for my own amusement. The original characters in this story, though, are my pals.

Ch. 1

1496 AD

The ferryman of the Underworld was frustrated. No, that was not enough. He was livid. A passing blue flame illuminated the thin curl of steam that hissed from his clenched mouth, hanging ominously in the frigid, still air. The whimpering soul crouched on the shore before the ferryman cringed at the sight.

"You want what?" The ferryman's voice was soft, but here, in his corner of the Underworld, it reverberated like clanging bells, sending ripples and waves across the inky surface of the Styx.

The filmy wisp of spirit cowered, but a sliver of the steel it had possessed as a human forced it to speak. "I cannot pay the fee. Have mercy, please, I beg you!" Compared to the ferryman's voice, the soul's words were barely audible, even to itself. It was an unfortunate soul, robbed of all its material possessions and butchered by roving bandits in the woods. Even in the dim light on the shores of the Styx, occasional flashes of lurid red and bruised black could be seen amidst the silvery-white essence, lingering evidence of its violent death.

But the soul's words evoked not pity, but disgust and rage in the dark heart of the ferryman. Never had he allowed a soul to pass the gateway into the Underworld without paying the toll, not once in nearly three thousand years. He had not allowed even the gods themselves to pass through freely – there was absolutely no way in Hell this pathetic scrap of ether was going to get that privilege. The ferryman willed his boat to slide as close to the shore as possible. Thanks to Hades' damned curse, he could not step foot on land, chained as he was to the river Styx. But the scant distance between him and the soul did little to soften the menace that gleamed from green pits deep within the cowl of the ferryman's cloak.

"Look over there, little soul," he crooned, pointing to his right. The shapeless form of the soul writhed in place, and the ferryman knew it could see the vast mountain of riches in the distance, shining dully in the scattered floating flames of Hell.

"A piece of silver, a piece of gold, I have even accepted bronze and petty baubles from the truly miserable," he said smoothly. "That is my meager price. For so little, I can grant you safe passage to serenity." Not exactly true, but this little soul had no need to know that. He leaned over the edge of the boat, till he faced the soul. "Can you not offer me such a trifling thing?" The ferryman's voice oozed compassion and sympathy.

"I have nothing," the soul whispered piteously.

The very air seemed to freeze. The floating flames arrested themselves, the minute motions of the river halted. "Nothing?"

The soul seemed to sense its impending fate, for it keened a loud, screeching cry. "Have pity, ferryman!"

The ferryman straightened abruptly. All around him, the still landscape exploded into excited activity. The ethereal reeds along the riverbank whipped back and forth in a nonexistent wind, and above them, the eerily colored flames danced and leapt into the air, crackling ominously. And the river below churned restlessly, like a hungry child waiting to be fed.

The ferryman raised his arm, his hand splayed outward. The soul whimpered as an icy force pushed it resolutely towards the river. The soul struggled and flailed helplessly, but all too soon, it crossed the threshold of the river. The ferryman swooped down like a vengeful hawk, clawing into the essence of the soul. He held up the writhing, silvery mass to his face, and hissed, "There is no pity in the Underworld."

He raised the wailing soul over his head. Below his feet, the river surged into frenzied waves, and where it parted, thousands of rotting, grasping hands could be seen reaching out of the riverbed. The ferryman hurled the soul into the river, and watched with grim pleasure as a great column of brackish water burst up where it hit the surface. A low moan of satisfaction, composed of countless damned in the river feasting on the wretched soul, echoed in the air, dying down as the river stilled.

Charon the ferryman sighed, and glancing back at the mountain of wealth stretching ever upwards, he picked up his oar and set off down the river.

* * *

><p>September 2006<p>

There was a click, followed by a grunt.

Thank God, he picked up the phone. "Eric?" There was hope for her yet.

There was a muffled whine over the phone, and then Eric's distinctly grouchy voice rasped through. "Ginny. This better be important. It's eight in the fucking morning."

Irritation steeled her spine against the whine that threatened to break free. "My car is broken," she said, proud of the steady tone of her voice. The morning air was unseasonably chilly, and she hugged herself tighter, casting a nervous glance at her surroundings. Miles of trees stretched to either side of her, and the road both before and behind her had been completely devoid of any traffic for the past hour that she had been stuck here. While unquestionably idyllic in a way, the endless quiet was seriously giving her the creeps right now.

There was a quick rustle of fabric over the line, and then Eric spoke again, his voice much clearer now. "What? What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know! One minute I was driving up the MA3, the next it slowed down completely. I've got it on the side of the road right now, and it won't start up at all!" Panic clogged her voice and choked a few tears out of her. She knew it was overreacting, but this was the second replacement car in a year that her father had gotten her. He would not tolerate the news that it, too, had suddenly gone out of commission.

"Alright, breathe, Ginna. Did you call the maintenance company?" This was Eric's big brother voice, firm and gentle, and like always, she felt the alarm die down immediately.

"Yes, they're on their way from Ipswich. They said it'd be about two hours."

"Good. You in the car?"

"No."

"Get inside and lock the doors. Where on MA3 are you?"

She did a quick calculation in her head as she opened the car door and slipped inside. "I'm maybe an hour from your place," she answered, shutting the door firmly. The click of the lock echoed sharply in the still air for a second after.

"Okay, I'm on my way." Sure enough, she heard his car door slam shut over the phone. "Stay on the phone with me, okay?"

"Eric, you're seriously the best."

"Damn right, crazy girl. Now keep me entertained until I get there."

* * *

><p>Humming along to Jason Mraz on her Ipod, Michaela scooped up the last of her things – her pretty pink vanity case – from her trunk. She shut the trunk with a heady sigh of relief. The new moving company her father had picked had gotten to the dormitory at the same time she had, and together, they'd gotten all her things into the room she'd be sharing with Virginia within an hour – much better than last year's three-hour ordeal.<p>

The thought of her best friend had Michaela glancing over to the west side of the dormitory parking lot, where a moving van was parked with Virginia's things. The look on the driver's face was decidedly antagonistic, even at this distance. Michaela felt a stab of indignation on behalf of her friend – it wasn't as though Virginia wanted her car to break down in the middle of the MA3. The girl just had awful luck with cars.

And then as if the thought had somehow summoned them, the throaty purr of Eric's Ferrari echoed up from the gates, layered with a heavy, insistent drum beat. Michaela pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, waiting until the flashy red car was two rows away before waving her arms in the air. A hand popped out of the passenger side window, pointing in her direction. The car immediately swerved through the two lanes of parking spaces, narrowing missing the bumper of a white Jeep and causing more than one person to flash the finger in its wake. The car squealed into the parking spot next to Michaela's Maserati, the thunderous rap momentarily deafening her before abruptly dying off.

The blonde girl dashed up to the passenger side and wrenched it open, not at all surprised when she was suddenly tackled by a dark-haired blur. "Oh Mimi, I missed you like hell!" Michaela couldn't help the wide grin that broke out on her face as she returned the fierce hug.

"Well, I would've missed you too, but my mind was occupied with French boys and sunny beaches. Sorry!"

Virginia pulled back and slapped her on the arm. "Bitch. First you run off to Europe for the whole summer, and now you rub French boys in my face. Where is your sense of sisterhood?"

"Drowned in the Mediterranean. But don't play the victim here, I heard some juicy gossip about what went down back home. When we get up to the room, you're going to dish," Michaela threatened, fixing her best friend with a fierce stare that was completely nullified by the smirk on her lips.

"Jesus, all this estrogen is suffocating me. Ginny, stop being a hog and share the Mickey love," Eric interrupted as he playfully pushed Virginia to the side and took her place. "Come here, you," he said to Michaela, opening his arms. She jumped into his hug with a delighted giggle. "Now, Mickey, I know you missed me more than you missed Ginna, but we probably shouldn't tell her that. Saves us the jealous hysterics, you know."

"Oh, I totally get it," she answered, ignoring the mock pout Virginia was sending their way. "So guess what I did?"

Eric pushed her to arms length, placing his hands on her shoulders, and leaned down to stare good and hard at the bright smile on her face. His eyes narrowed, then widened and then narrowed again. "Oh, you did not," he whispered.

"Oh, yes I did," she replied smugly. Eric threw his head back with a groan of envy, shaking her.

"When?"

"Oh, about a month ago, I went with my cousins. Eric, it was seriously amazing. The best rush ever, even better than that place in Hawaii," Michaela gushed, grabbing Eric's arm. "We were, I don't know, almost eighty feet high, I think, and the water is so clear below you. God, it was incredible!"

Eric slapped his hand over his face, dragging it down with a sigh. "You cannot believe how jealous I am. Like seriously jealous. I might even hate you a little right now, Mickey. No, actually I do."

"I'm feeling a little out of the loop here, kids. What the hell are you two talking about?" Virginia sidled up to Eric, who slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Cliff-diving, Vi! I went to Ponte Brolla in Switzerland, which is one of the best places in the world to do it. Eric and I have been talking about it for ages, and I finally got to do it this summer, and now Eric's madly jealous," Michaela replied, throwing a satisfied smirk at the tall boy.

"See? You should've sided with me. Now she's rubbing her vacation in both of our faces," Virginia admonished Eric, who nodded with sham severity and swung his arm around her shoulders.

"Lesson learned."

* * *

><p>With a deeply satisfied sigh, Caroline looped her last necklace onto the arm of the tall Egyptian-style statue that served as part of her jewelry organizer. Turning around, she surveyed the room with a sense of pride. Ten-thirty in the morning and she was already done setting up home in her dormitory. She glanced over at the empty side of her room and wondered once again where her new roommate was. Chloe Rose Yeardley – Caroline hoped the girl wouldn't mind that she'd picked a side of the room already.<p>

The contentment from her unpacking fled more quickly than she liked, allowing the homesickness and loneliness to creep through. She'd cried the entire way up to Ipswich, glad that her parents had had to work and that she'd had to make the drive up alone. While she was glad to have even gotten into a school as prestigious and renowned as Spencer Academy, she had a strong inkling that her experience here would be anything but pleasant. The kids at Spencer were the budding heirs of Fortune 500 companies. They were scions of some of the oldest, most powerful families in America – Rockefeller, Kennedy. The most famous person in her family was an aunt who'd served as a back-up dancer for Madonna in the eighties.

Her thoughts shifted to the school she'd left behind. Montgomery High School was like every other stereotypical, average school in America. There were snobby cheerleaders, football jocks, math-nerds – the whole gamut. Caroline had never been anyone particularly special there – she had excellent grades, though it was not something she advertised, and she played tennis for the school team, but she had been happy in her little sphere. She had her friends – stalwart, sweet, cheerleader Amelia; funny, dorky, computer club member John and broody, anti-establishment, ditching king Kyle – and she had her family. They had thrown her a going away party two days ago, with cake and movies and a bottle of mace as a present from Kyle. "To protect you from capitalism," he'd said flatly, before giving her one of his rare hugs.

Her parents, sensing Caroline's reluctance and perhaps feeling sheepish for insisting that she go, pooled up their savings and bought her that quintessential symbol of teenage freedom - a car. It was nothing extravagant, certainly nothing like the flashy cars with foreign names she could not pronounce that were parked outside. It was a late nineties model Nissan Altima, with chipped blue paint and a very temperamental radio and heating/cooling system. It took a certain angle of the key to get it to start, and sometimes the trunk flew up for no reason while driving. For Caroline, though, it was love at first sight. She'd even named her imperfectly perfect car – Sebastian.

The rattle of the door handle startled her out of her thoughts. Half-rising, she put a hand on the desk chair near her bed for support. The door opened, revealing a leggy, tan brunette in a white, knee-length skirt and blue tank. A gigantic white tote, loosely filled, hung off her shoulder, and she was dragging a large red suitcase. Behind her, Caroline could see two men in blue jumpsuits with cardboard boxes in their arms. Upon seeing Caroline, the brunette promptly dropped the suitcase and smiled broadly. She strode into the room and extended her hand. "You must be Caroline. I'm Chloe."

Caroline swallowed the sudden knot of nerves that surged into her throat and straightened her stance. "Nice to meet you," she said, hearing the slight quiver in her voice as she took the proffered hand. Chloe had a strong, firm grip, and Caroline's own gentle hold felt crushed for a few moments as they shook hands. Then suddenly Chloe released her and bounded forward, wrapping her arms around Caroline's neck. Caroline blinked furiously and nearly stumbled from the unexpected hug, but before she could react any further, Chloe stepped back. The brunette laughed lightly and skipped around the room to her side, flopping down dramatically on her mattress.

"I'm so excited for this year. I heard that they have a great languages selection here, I'm probably going to take Portuguese, because my dad's mom is from Portugal, and every time I visit her she throws a fit that I can speak Spanish and not her precious Portuguese. Do you speak any languages? I'm new this year, so I don't really know anything about the school, so maybe you could give me the scoop on all the good stuff to know. You know, like who's the school hottie, what teacher I shouldn't take for English, whether or not the school food is edible – my old school was about as nice as Spencer, but the food was absolutely disgusting. My friends and I always went to this little café that was right next to the school for breakfast and lunch, the lady who owns it got to calling us her chicks, because it was called the Early Bird Café. Oh my god, I'm talking so much, tell me about you!"

Caroline, taken aback by the rapid-fire commentary, wasn't expecting the abrupt stop in Chloe's monologue, so an awkwardly long silence filled the room, broken only by the grunts of the moving men as they hustled things outside the door. Finally, the words registered on Caroline, and an embarrassed flush bloomed on her cheeks. "Oh! Um, well I'm actually new here too. I used to go to school in Pennsylvania, but I transferred here." Some innate sense of preservation forced her to conceal the fact that she was a scholarship student – she had a feeling that most students wouldn't take that as a reason to befriend her.

She could tell by Chloe's steady stare that the other girl was expecting her to talk more. "Umm…"

"Let's go find a coffee shop or something," Chloe interrupted brightly, jumping up from her bed and grabbing her huge white purse.

"What?" Caroline was finding it difficult to keep up with Chloe's mercurial changes in topic.

"Come on! It'll be easier for us to get to know each other with some food in our bellies. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Chloe groaned, theatrically clutching her stomach.

Come to think of it, it had been a few hours since Caroline had eaten, and her stomach chose that very opportune moment to make the fact known. Chloe grinned triumphantly. "Let's go!"

Caroline gestured weakly at the movers who were standing outside the door, waiting for Chloe's attention. "What about your things? I mean, shouldn't you stay to make sure it all gets-"

Chloe glanced carelessly over at the small mountain of her things, and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, hey guys, you can just shove all that in here, I'll take care of it afterwards. Just close the door after you." She searched the room until she located Caroline's practical brown leather bag. "Aha!" She snatched it up off the desk and draped it over Caroline's shoulder. "Come on roomie, let's get some coffee!" She grabbed Caroline's hand and strode resolutely towards the door. Caroline, swept up in her enthusiasm, could do little more than smile weakly at the bemused moving men as she passed them on her way out.

* * *

><p>The deep thrums of a rap beat had Reid Garwin turning his head, missing the box that Caleb was holding out to him. The red Ferrari pulling into the parking lot next to a yellow Maserati had its windows down, music pumping from the excellent sound system within.<p>

"Hey man, are you going to get this or not?" Reid turned back to face the dark-haired boy, who was staring at him with an annoyed frown.

"Yeah, yeah, cool it," the blond drawled, taking the cardboard box filled with CDs and movies. The music suddenly cut off, and he heard the sound of a car door slam shut. Curious again, he set the box on the ground and watched as a tall brown-haired boy dressed in sweats and a white tee rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk. From the passenger's side a short, dark-haired girl in a rust-colored dress and overlarge letterman jacket hopped out and into the arms of an equally short blonde girl.

"Is that Kennedy and Madsen?" Tyler asked, coming up to stand next to Reid.

"Looks like it. Kennedy's the only one I know who's got such a ridiculous car," Reid answered, crossing his arms and watching the three people talking across the parking lot. The boys were getting ready to move into the dormitory for their last year at Spencer Academy. Tyler and Reid were roommates once again – but they had been so since freshmen year, since no one else would put up with Reid's flavors of the month and Tyler's borderline obsessive-compulsive cleanliness.

The August morning had a distinctly lazy feel to it, and so the boys had shamelessly enlisted the help of Caleb and Pogue to get their things into the dormitory. The older boys hadn't agreed without a price, though – tonight's revelry at Nicky's would be on Reid and Tyler. The younger boys had winced a little at the thought. The last time they'd been suckered into such a deal, both had gone home nearly five hundred dollars poorer. How Caleb and Pogue had managed that was still a mystery. Regardless of the impending cost to his wallet, Reid was glad to have them there – their work ethic far exceeded his own, and what would've taken Reid and Tyler three or four hours was close to being accomplished in half the time. It helped that they'd gotten an extra hand thrown into the mix, because naturally nowadays, wherever Pogue was, Kate was never far behind. The leggy brunette was currently perched on the lip of the trunk of Reid's Porsche, helping Pogue catalog and organize Tyler's Economist magazines, which had spilled out during the drive over.

The thought of Kate had Reid smirking. Taking one last glance at the trio by the brightly colored cars, he turned his back and walked over to her. "Oh Kate," he said in a high, sing-song voice. She glanced up, a half-smile tugging at her lips. He draped an arm over her shoulders, ignoring the soft growl from Pogue. Bending his head so that he was level with Kate, he pointed over to where Virginia Madsen and Eric Kennedy were talking to Michaela Vaughn. Eric had his arm draped over Virginia's shoulders. "Look over there, sunshine of my life and wind beneath my wings. Your little ex-bitch is finally moving on." He glanced over gleefully to see what Pogue's girl's reaction would be.

He certainly wasn't expecting the immediate laugh. Kate threw her head back in delight and then patted him on the shoulder. "Oh Reid, Ginny and Eric would probably kill you for saying that," she said, her dark eyes gleaming with mirth.

"Oh?" Reid's mood nosedived. Creating mischief between the stoic Neanderthal known as Pogue and sugar-sweet Kate had quickly become one of his favorite pastimes in the two months since the couple had begun dating, and being denied that pleasure stung.

"They're best friends – like siblings, seriously. They went through diapers and puberty together. They're definitely not dating, trust me," she replied, ducking out from under his arm and turning once more to help Pogue. Reid sighed, retrieving the box from the ground, but was slightly mollified to see a vague expression of annoyance on Pogue's face as he glanced at Kate.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

"Max!"

Maximilian Gray paused in the act of opening his door and turned at the sound of Eric's voice. The blond boy maneuvered his way around two freshman boys lugging a large flat-screen television into their dorm room. Max twisted the key in the lock and turned the knob at the subsequent click. He entered the room, leaving it open for Eric to enter after him. The cacophony of move-in day abruptly cut off as Eric shut the door.

"Where's Logan?" Eric asked as he stripped off his sweatshirt and draped it over the sleek leather chair in his third of the room.

"Shower, we played ball with Will and some of the guys earlier," Max replied as he pulled his towel down from around his neck and hung it over his closet door. He grabbed a grey t-shirt from a hanger and slid it over his head. "Where'd you go this morning?" He asked.

Eric clambered back into bed, and wrapped himself up in the black comforter. "Ginna's car's broke down," he said exasperatedly.

Max choked back a disbelieving laugh as he crossed the room. "Again?" He pulled out the leather chair at his desk and plopped down into it, running his hand quickly through his damp hair.

"Yeah, like an hour out from school. I should've swung home and brought Martin along, she said she only had a few things in her car, but her trunk was stuffed to the brim. My arms feel like fucking noodles," Eric groused.

"You could've woken me," Max replied nonchalantly, as he grabbed his phone and flipped it open. Eric lifted the arm he'd flung over his eyes to smirk knowingly.

"Next time you want to play hero, don't drink yourself stupid the night before. I yelled at you for two whole minutes and you didn't even move," he retorted, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it halfheartedly at his roommate.

Max raised an eyebrow as the pillow slid pathetically to a stop a good five feet away from him. "You provided the vodka, you ass. Take some responsibility."

"You chugged that all by yourself, man, I didn't hold your hand for that. I'll take credit where it's due. Although," and here Eric glowered at him, "I'm a little pissed you don't even seem to have a hangover. Logan and I drank half as much as you did, and I woke up feeling like Pogue fucking Parry was playing drums on my head."

"Karma for giving alcohol to minors, you'll burn in hell for that," Max retorted drolly, completely unsympathetic. He cleared his throat before continuing, "So Ginny's okay?"

"Yeah, she's good. I swear that girl should just hire a chauffeur or something, though, she's hell on cars," Eric's muffled voice replied from underneath his pillow.

"Are she and Mickey all moved in?" Max asked, grabbing a small bag from his desk and shoving it into his pocket.

"Yeah," came the drowsy answer. Max grinned at his roommate, and pocketing his keys, left the room. Outside, chaos reigned as a pimple-faced boy raced up and down the hall, chasing a streak of white. All around him, boys were laughing and jumping out of the way. One such leap sent a glass lamp crashing to the carpeted floor, spilling glass everywhere. Max pinched his nose in annoyance, and then reached out and grabbed the pimply boy's arm as he tried to race past.

"Hey, what the-" the boy shut his mouth comically as he stared up at the senior. All around, "oooo's" and "busted" were heard, but a quelling glare from Max silenced the hall.

"Is that a rat, Miller?" Max asked quietly.

Noah Miller flushed guiltily. "Yeah, um, it was a present from my mom." Badly-concealed snickers ricocheted across the hallway.

Max used his considerable height to his advantage as he stared down at the boy. "Get rid of it. If I see that thing running around here again, I'll deliver it to your room in a rat trap." Noah nodded jerkily, like a mannequin on a string. Max shoved him away, and then turned to the boys near the shattered lamp. "Clean that up," he ordered. As he made his way down the hall, he heard the whispers of awe and anger pick up behind him. Max couldn't care less – at least now they would stay out of his way. He yanked open the door to the girls' wing and slipped in.

The girls, as usual, were operating in much more controlled chaos. Excited chatter and shrill laughter were the dominant sounds, and the strong odor of floral perfume hung in the hallway. As Max entered, girls left and right moved out of his way with sometimes shy, sometimes overt glances, but Max ignored them as he made his way to Room 367.

The door was decorated with two obnoxiously pink nameplates shaped like seashells, reading Ginna and Mickey. Michaela's work, he thought, shaking his head at the bright silver sparkles dotting the I's in both their names. Their full names were naturally not listed, as both girls threatened physical violence at the use of their given names, though Logan seemed to be an exception in Michaela's case, for reasons obvious to even a blind man. Max rapped a quick knock on the door.

Virginia answered the door, and the sight of her sent a warm thrill down his spine. His dark-haired friend was dressed in an extra soccer jersey she'd stolen from him in sophomore year. She had a lollipop in her mouth, but at the sight of him, she gave a wordless squeak and hurled herself into his waiting arms. Max easily lifted her into the air and carried her back into the room, shutting the door with his foot. "Hi to you too, Ginna," he chuckled, releasing her, only to be tackled by a blonde blur. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a forced exhale, but he still managed to wrap his arms around her as she clung to him. "Fuck, Mickey, you should've tried out for football," he joked, ruffling her hair. She jerked out of his hold and socked him in the arm. Max winced, rubbing his arm – despite Michaela's short stature, she packed quite the punch, thanks to Logan's training.

"Jerk. Give me my present," she said waspishly, holding out her hand expectantly. Virginia passed her to open the window.

"I'm fine, and I had a great summer, thanks for asking," he drawled.

Virginia sauntered over to him, lollipop sadly missing, and clasped her hands before her. "Hi Max, I missed you a lot this summer, can I have my present please?" Her saccharine voice and ridiculously fluttering eyelashes teased a chuckle from him, and he pulled her into a side-hug.

"See, Mickey, that's how you ask for your present," he said.

Michaela huffed. "Fine. Sugar daddy, can I pretty please have my present too?" She pretended to yank down her tank top and shimmied her chest shamelessly.

"Nice show - but unfortunately, girls, your gifts aren't done yet," Max answered. "My cousin's bogged down with an order from some oil tycoon in Russia, but he promised they'd be here in a month."

Silence reigned in the room for a few moments as Virginia and Michaela mulled over his words. "He doesn't come bearing gifts," Michaela said thoughtfully.

"No, he doesn't. Should we kick him out?" Virginia answered, ducking under Max's arm and sidling up to her roommate.

"Absolutely." The two girls stalked resolutely towards him.

Max took a laughing step back and held up his hands. "Hold up, ladies, I did bring a little something to make up for it, if you want to dim the kill lights long enough to find out," he said, retrieving the bag from his pocket. It was a small fabric bag, stamped with a logo in Italian. He reached inside and fished out two silver-wrapped objects, holding them out to the girls.

"Is that chocolate?" Virginia asked skeptically, stepping closer. "Oh my god, it is. You're seriously trying to substitute chocolate for priceless jewels?" She crossed her arms peevishly.

Michaela picked one of the chocolates up and sneered at it. "Do we look like hormonal freshmen girls to you? And they're not even big chocolates – you could've made up for it by bringing really big ones. Size matters, no matter what you boys try to say to make yourselves feel better about your lack of-"

"Michaela. Shut up and try it first. Then you can try to attack my manliness, okay?" Max grabbed Virginia's hand and walked backwards with her till he came to the leather chair on her side of the room. He plopped down into it, and then tugged her into his lap, tossing the chocolate at her as she settled on his legs. Michaela shot a dubious glare his way as she unwrapped the silver foil and shoved the chocolate into her mouth. The way the expression on her face slowly melted from scorn to awe was almost Oscar-worthy.

"Wow, Max," she whispered breathlessly, "I think I love you."

"Yeah," he said smugly, "that's what I thought."

The movie had barely begun, and already Kate had conked out, unabashedly using his increasingly numb arm as a pillow. Pogue tried to shift as best he could on the bed without waking her, though with the way his girlfriend slept, he could've blown a foghorn into her ear and she still would doze peacefully on. Then again, he thought, she probably had the right idea by taking a nap – though Jurassic Park would always be on his top ten movies list, there were only so many times that he could watch it nowadays.

The same could not be said of Reid and Tyler. The two of them were avidly watching the movie, Reid sprawled in a lounge chair and Tyler half buried in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Pogue stared at them incredulously for a moment, unsure whether to be awed or worried about their devotion to the film.

That train of thought, however, was pleasantly interrupted by the sudden soft heat of Kate's breath on his neck as she snuggled closer to him. Forgetting about the movie and his weird friends, Pogue focused instead on the pretty brunette in his arms. Kate was the exact opposite of his usual type – his last two girlfriends had been twins who were in the same girl rock-band, brash, outspoken and blatantly aware of their own sensuality.

Kate, while confident and self-assured in almost every aspect of her life, was remarkably shy about intimacy with him. It wasn't until their third date that they had their first kiss, though Pogue didn't like to count that half-second, dry peck on the lips. Those chaste kisses had continued for nearly two weeks before she'd finally had the nerve to be more daring. A significant part of Pogue, namely his southern half, initially balked at this – no girl before had waited more than three weeks to bring up sex, whereas he and Kate had barely progressed to hands under clothes a week ago. He didn't know if it was just him, or if she'd approached all her relationships this way, but three months into their relationship, he still got that sweet fizz of excitement whenever he saw her, and he was strangely beginning to like the torturously slow pace of his relationship.

The quiet strums of a rock ballad played out during a quiet moment in the movie. Pogue glanced up and saw Reid digging into his pocket. Reid pulled out his ringing phone and immediately scoffed at the name of the caller. He silenced the ringer with a frustrated motion and threw the phone aside, rubbing his hands over his face with a groan. Less than a second later, the blond boy surged out of his chair, scooped up the phone and stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

The loud noise had Kate jerking awake, and her startled gaze flew around the room. "It's nothing," he rumbled, pulling her closer. But as she settled into his arms again, Pogue glanced over her head to meet Tyler's eyes, and knew the worry reflected there was the same that prickled over his skin.

Outside the dorm, Reid leaned against the wall and took a deep, steadying breath. He flicked a glance down at the phone in his hand just as the blinking light ceased. The flashing name disappeared, but he knew all too well that the calls wouldn't stop until he picked up. Better to find some privacy before the next call. Reid straightened and headed for one of the small balconies that branched off from the dorm hallways. As he reached for the doorknob, his phone vibrated again. Reid waited till he'd shut the door firmly behind him before picking up.

"Dad." He did his best to keep his tone utterly neutral.

"Reid." As ever, Isaiah Garwin's voice was brusque and direct.

"You're back," Reid said. He sat down on the lone wooden bench on the small balcony.

"Obviously. And you're at school."

Reid bit back his instinctive desire to reply with a sarcastic 'Obviously,' and instead remained silent. His palms were becoming sweaty, and he wiped them irritably on his jeans.

There was a small squeak over the line. "Did your mother pay the tuition?"

Reid felt his blood chill. He'd known, ever since he'd first decided to flout his father's orders, that Isaiah would quickly realize who was helping him. Knowing did little to prepare him for the sudden reality of facing the consequences of that disobedience.

Tracking down his mother would've been a nightmare if she hadn't given him a phone number the last time they'd been able to meet three years ago. His mother moved every few months in order to protect herself from Isaiah Garwin's grasp. With the help of his friends to cover his tracks from the watchful eyes his father had left behind, Reid was able to get up to her beachside home in Maine two days after Isaiah left on a business trip. Alice Thompson – she'd long since dropped her married name - had wholeheartedly supported him in trying to get back to school as a means to escape Isaiah, and had arranged everything within a few days. Ecstatic with his success and anticipating that Isaiah would be gone for a few weeks more, Reid had relished the chance to be himself, if only for a few stolen weeks. He hadn't expected his father to return home two weeks earlier than planned, and though part of his brain scrambled to find a cover story, he knew that trying to pass anything else but the truth was futile.

"Answer me," Isaiah said softly.

"There's no point, since you already obviously know the answer," Reid bit out.

"Interfering bitch," Isaiah cursed.

"I went to her! She only did what I asked her to do, so leave her out of this!" Panicked and enraged, his hands ached with the need to punch something.

Isaiah laughed bitterly. "How many times do I have to tell you, Reid? It's your mother's fault you're in this damn mess. If only she'd gotten pregnant before the Danvers woman, we wouldn't be stuck here. And still you run like a fucking baby to her."

"God, listen to yourself, dad. You're crazy," Reid said, disgust and desperation warring in his voice.

"Crazy?" A huff of air rattled through the phone as Isaiah chuckled. "For trying to elevate our family to its rightful place? We've been under the thumb of this damn Covenant since it started, boy, and now we're finally on the cusp of our success. I want you to get back home now, so I can train you to beat the Danvers boy to Ascension."

The extent of his father's madness made Reid want to rip his hair out. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and hissed out a breath, answering bitterly, "And why the fuck should I care about what you want?"

There was a long, ominous pause on the other side. "Fine. I was planning to visit your mother soon anyways, but now you've given me a much more compelling reason."

"You won't find her." Reid wished he could actually believe those words. His palms grew damp, and he rubbed them hard against his jeans to distract from the fine panic welling inside.

"Oh, I know she's probably moved from that cozy little house on that beach in Maine. Shame, it had a great view of the lighthouse from the living room window."

"That doesn't mean anything." His mother had mentioned she would probably be going west in her next move – would Isaiah have already found out?

"I hear New Mexico is wonderful this time of year."

Reid clenched his teeth and bit back the urge to give voice to the tidal wave of angry emotions seething under his skin. He forced himself instead to remember his mother's smiling face as she had waved goodbye to him from her front door that summer. For his mother, Reid had to try and gain some control in this mad power play between the Garwin men. He needed a plan. But more than that, he needed time to come up with a plan. And to get that time, Isaiah had to believe he had Reid in the palm of his hand.

"Fine. A truce, dad."

"A truce?" There was a note of skepticism in Isaiah's voice, but Reid knew he'd intrigued his father.

"Let me have this last semester. Let me stay until December, and then I'll come home and do whatever you want. You'll still have a year before Caleb Ascends." Even though he knew the words were a lie, they still tasted like acid spilling over his lips.

"Are you trying to buy time to stop me, boy?"

Of course Isaiah would see through the paper-thin ploy, but Reid still pressed his case. "Like you'd give me a chance. It's better for you if I don't fuck around at home trying to kill you to screw up your megalomaniac scheme."

"On that note, I suppose I should let you know that I have a sniper on your mother at all times. Every day he receives a call from me that informs him to not shoot. If he ever fails to receive that call, he'll kill her."

Ice swam through Reid's veins as he was once again reminded of the endless depths of his father's cruelty. "Fuck you."

Isaiah scoffed. "You're my blood, boy. I don't trust you not to try something stupid. Have your semester, then. After that, we'll be doing things my way." The phone beeped, and then went dead.


End file.
